Archive for Kitchen/Culinary Woes

Sadly, my patience is usually gone after the PB & J hits the counter at lunchtime, and keeping the kids focused on anything longer than an hour generally requires some form of sugar or technology. Or Benedryl.

Ok, it’s not that bad, but you get the idea.

Still, I am passionate about infusing learning opportunities into everyday life and finding fun, meaningful things to do together.

So I guess you could say that I unofficially homeschool our kids.

One of the ways we’ve brought school into the everyday is to transform our kitchen wall into a learning center. We have four clocks representing the four time zones of the contiguous United States, labeled according to locations where friends live. Having these clocks in the midst of our busy traffic space allows us to see immediately what time it is in Washington or Chicago or Montana. It helps us judge the best time for phone calls and for figuring out if so-and-so is eating dinner.

We also took a cue from the beloved classic Sleepless in Seattle, and hung a US map below the clocks. This map is special in that it is laminated and came with red pins to indicate our family travels. It’s fun to return home from trips and get out the Vis-a-Vis marker to chart our paths together. Lord willing, I’m hoping this map will look like a spider web on steroids by the time our kids leave the nest!

We refer to our map every day when we read the news, hear of others’ vacations, or learn the attributes of other states. Our kids have a running list of places they’d like to visit, with our youngest declaring his goal to go to all fifty states!

My sister and friends who homeschool all tell me that it’s really “a way of life.” I get that. And you know what? Based on what God says in Deuteronomy 6, I actually think it’s his idea to weave teaching into your daily life.

If you agree, then I officially declare you an “unofficial” homeschooler.

Start in the kitchen. Benedryl optional.

~~~

What creative ways do you have for incorporating learning into your everyday life?

**Thank you to “Photography by Kamarah” for the lovely pictures! Look for her on Facebook.

Don’t we all wish there was a fool-proof recipe or some sort of silicon mold that promised to shape our children into the caring, generous, love-filled humans we want them to be? Or perhaps some magic powder we could sprinkle on heads or tiny feet that guaranteed sweetness and compassion?

Instead, we parents carry the burden–and joy–of instilling these values and character traits into our children with purposeful teaching and through personal example. In my own life, I can think of incredibly generous individuals whom I so admire, and others that I love dearly, but who seem to squander opportunities to spread love. Taking time to reflect on both possibilities can help us parent with “the end in mind.”

So it was perfect timing that our youngest son’s AWANA homework last week was to make Valentines’ cards with his memory verse on them. We decided to tackle it as a family and started our Valentine’s Day celebration with the premise that we should share love with our neighbors. Although they may argue that they’re sick of our baked goods and annoyed by little hands ringing doorbells in the dark, we think it’s fun and enjoy these small moments. Neighbors, thanks for graciously welcoming our children…and our cookies 🙂

If you’ve been a long-time reader, you will know that my kitchen prowess is, well, a bit unpolished. That is to say, I should have auditioned for Anne Burrell’s Worst Cook in America. I’m sure I could put on quite a show with my colorful creations.

HOWEVER. In a moment of serendipitous delight, I actually hit one out of the park this past week! Of course the protein was prepackaged and precooked, but hey–once the Costco food testers get you drooling in the aisles, there’s really no turning back.

Here are the details. Go ahead and add it all to your shopping list:

1 french bread baguette

baby spinach

sliced tomatoes [I make mine half-moon shaped]

dipping herbs + EVOO

Amylu’s Chicken Burgers [YUM!!]

I use my lovely new panini press to toast the french bread which has been generously slathered in the EVOO and herbs. Next, to accommodate the size of the “bun” I cut the burgers in half. This is also a tricky portion control stunt I use to reduce my tendancy to strap on the feed bag and go to town. Last, top with spinach and tomato and BAM! Instant smiles!

I ate the whole. box.

I mean, this was over several days, so don’t go pointing fingers. I’m sure I’m not the only person who’s ever eaten more than the “suggested serving size.” Those are just guidelines, anyway.

I didn’t really know I loved fortune cookies this much until they became a secret treasure to be consumed in the late evening hours. Preferably during an edifying episode of The Bachelor. In case you didn’t know, some food just tastes better in your pajamas [no charge for that priceless tidbit].

Maybe it’s the elastic waist band that is so forgiving, or the fact that it’s quiet and you can hear your teeth crunching without the background noise of kids fighting over who forgot to flush the toilet.

At any rate, what I discovered [beyond my penchant for binging] is that fortune cookies are like free therapy! Who knew?! Biting into one of these is like flipping on a grown-up version of Barney and having a group of cheerleaders spring into your living room for encouragement, cartwheels and all.

So now I know: in those moments when gray clouds seem to crawl over my future, all I need to do is look at this array of oh-so-specific fortunes for a quick pick-me-up:

1. “You will make a sudden rise in life.” [That is correct. Starting with my weight.]

Don’t you just feel better already? I told you–instant cheerleaders, right? Opportunities abound, and good times and charming friends are coming my way! Fantastic!

So next time you need free therapy, head down your nearest “ethnic” aisle at the grocery story and look for that lovely, shiny blue box of LaChoy goodness. Happiness and instant optimism for only $1.97!

“As a girl and young woman, I memorized hundreds of Scripture verses in vacation Bible school and in Sunday school. I grew up memorizing the hymn book. I didn’t, however, grow up understanding much about God’s grace and freedom.” [pg. 191]

For so many women around the country, the melodic sound of Anita Lustrea’s voice piping into the kitchen each day on Moody Radio is a call to sit down with a good sandwich and breathe deeply during the lunch hour. Speaking for myself, her show Midday Connection has been a welcome hour-marker in my day; for years I have flipped on the radio, scrambled to hush crying babies or quickly closed the door on a noisy washing machine so that her conversations could bring light into my day. You can imagine, then, how I felt to have received a note from her asking me to review her new book [WOW!]. And after you read the book yourself, you’ll understand the joy I felt in turning each page [11+ pages dog-eared].

While the topics discussed in Anita’s book are reflective of what one might hear on Midday, rather than threading in an outside voice to the dialogue, Anita stitches in her own unvarnished story of growing up and grappling with the ebb and flow of life. Whether it be loneliness, struggling with fitting in, divorce, single motherhood, or body issues, Anita’s journey is told with the curtain pulled back and the lights fully on. To her credit, she doesn’t retreat into silence when discomfort creeps in: she tackles it with truth and the kind of authenticity that brings the reader back through the chapters of her own history to the place where she can whisper, “me too.”

What struck me about What Women Tell Me was how well-crafted each chapter was. Opening each chapter with an email snippet from a radio listener, Anita dives in with her own stories recounted from various points in her life, drawing on Scripture and noted authors for depth and breadth. With a skill and eloquence that is not overdone, people, places, and emotions become real–nearly tangible. I could picture the junior high version of Anita navigating the halls of her school. I could sense the deep longing within her for true, lasting friendship. I remembered having been there myself.

In particular, Anita’s bravery in discussing both divorce and the issue of pornography should be applauded–especially by those within the church who often turn a blind eye [or fire quick judgment] to these kind of bleeding wounds. I was surprised by all the hurt and struggle the Lord has brought into Anita’s life, yet she unfolds each detail with the hope that her story can bring freedom to another shrouded in secrets.

Anita is real and unflinching in her storytelling and in her faith. I picked up the book with curiosity and put it down next to a list of people with whom I need to share it. If you have ever felt the tight, suffocating grip of secrets, I encourage you to read this book while you seek the freedom Christ died to give you: “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” Galations 5:1.

This year, end your slavery to secrets and isolation! Choose today to unyoke yourself. Find room to breathe, room to cry, room to be real…in the pages of What Women Tell Me, and ultimately, in the arms of Jesus.

It’s no secret that I’m not all that gifted in the kitchen. I mean, I try. Really, I do. I occasionally reference a recipe and even give a passing thought to planning my meals. At my best I actually enjoy our dinners, savor each bite, and make a note to copy each procedure to the nth degree. At my worst I don’t even eat what I cook. I keep a bowl of Raisin Bran handy and sneak bites while the kids work on my debacle. Is that bad?

My latest strategy is to watch The Cooking Channel…while I’m on the elliptical machine–my own homespun version of kitchen penance and self-induced food torture. I did recreate a Giada “Venetian Holiday” recipe this past Saturday that successfully livened up the abysmal Bowl Games. Not that besting U of M or State was that difficult, however, considering what happened tonight, it must be pointed out.

This evening’s foray into Costco’s lightly breaded Tilapia was an average success, paired with mashed potatoes and broccoli that never fails to be cold by the time it climbs onto my fork [why is that?]. When I noticed that one of the kids’ fish still looked a little…shall we say…fishy, I slid it back under the broiler for what I intended to be just a quick wink…and of course promptly forgot about. The result?

What I lack in front of the stove I’m hoping to make up for behind wrapping paper. I’ve been working on a special gift for my niece’s fifth birthday tomorrow. Blank canvas, paint, a pack of $4 brushes and fingers crossed = this:

In the beginning was the base coat...and the base coat was varied...

...then came the letters...

Dots and dashes in the details.

Do you think she'll like them?

YES. I am taking orders. The fish isn’t working, but the canvas just might…

Contrary to the throngs of Time-Square-pounding, diamond-clad, smoky-eyed, horn-blowing ladies waving their champagne flutes to the thumping beat of the Black Eyed Peas, I was at home this New Year’s Eve wearing hoops and yoga pants, sporting mascara-free lashes and thumping–ok, humming–to the sultry beats of 40’s jazz that I got for free at a wedding reception.

For the past three years on New Year’s Eve, we’ve stayed home, opting to forego the hassle of babysitters and overpriced parties. We turn off the lights, set candles aflame, and celebrate the gift of another year together.

Our night begins around 6:30 with appetizers: this year we made our favorite jalapeno popper recipe from my neighbor. We pulled porterhouses and sizzlers from the freezer [we did our kids the favor of giving them the steak “without the bone.” Such a sacrifice…], chopped and roasted vegetables, baked potatoes, made salads, and prepared dipping sauce for the warm french baguette. With sparkling grape juice on ice, we pulled everything together for dinner in our pajamas–always a hit!

After dinner we dug out our special memory journal and read aloud the memories we wrote last year, sighing and smiling at the mention of things long forgotten; things that might seen insignificant and trivial to those on the outside looking in, but precious and treasured to those of us storing them inside our hearts. We went around the table and shared our favorite memories for 2010, adding them to the annals, and then set goals for the New Year.

While I’m not naive to the possibility of this all shriveling away at the onset of dating high school gatherings, I hope that these nights will always be special to our kids. I hope that they’ll remember staying up late when they were 5 and 7 and 8, and consider the fun we had and the kooky things we did together. I tell myself we’re doing it for them–to build strong bonds and strengthen the love that holds us together. But really, maybe I’m doing it for myself. So in those moments of change and doors closing behind teenagers, I’ll have memories like this for myself.

J making the steak marinate.

Mushrooms and zucchini tossed in EVOO and seasonings

China and crystal...and candles suspended in rice because I don't have the right kind of candleholders!

Contrary to most St. Patrick’s Day festivities I’ve been privy to, we’re steering away from shamrocks and ale and making a B-line for healthy greens this Wednesday. Not because I’m a prude who doesn’t like cabbage or has nightmares about biting leprechauns, but because I’m nursing a serious sore throat and muscles that feel stiff and achy. Maybe it’s “the rheumatism.” Or maybe I’m desperate for a chocolate-shake IV drip followed by a Nigh-Quil induced sleep. I’ll take my pick.

In the name of good health [that is, wishing for it], I’m sharing my new favorite recipe that is as delicious as it is green. You might even be able to get your kids to enjoy this for St. Patrick’s Day!

GREEN SMOOTHIE

Combine the following into a reliable blender:

1 ripe banana

1 wedge of fresh pineapple

1 whole kiwi, washed and with ends removed, but with skin on [Vitamin C]

roughly 3/4 C water

squirt of Agave Nectar to sweeten

generous handful of spinach leaves [organic best]

ICE

>>Blend until smooth, and enjoy!! It’s truly delicious!

QUESTION FOR YOU: What will your family be eating/drinking this St. Pat’s??

Last week while furiously peeling potatoes, simultaneously trying not to gore myself with the peeler or drop a starchy, slippery mass down the garbage disposal, I suddenly had a bizarre sort of desperate thought: “I will be grocery shopping for the rest of my life. I will use up these potatoes and have to go back to the store, and I will need to grocery shop forever.”

Well, duh. It’s not the deepest, most philosophical ponderence known to man, but in that moment, I wondered: “How many other things will I have to do — forever??”

So I decided to make a list. I exempted any and all bodily functions and things that are essential to life itself [i.e., eating, drinking, breathing, using shelter, using the potty, etc.], and here’s what I came up with:

5 Things You Can’t Quit

1. Clipping Fingernails/Cutting Hair. OK. If you’re Lee Redmond and you enjoy looking like THIS [see right], you might argue against fingernail clipping, but I’d argue right back that you’re bonkers. And gross.

2. Using Money. Yes, it’s true: money, the proverbial root of all evil, is a necessity. And while you may pine for the days of yore when trading glass beads and animal furs was the way to do business, we’ll ever see those days again. And really, a pile of animal furs wouldn’t fit in your wallet even if you could get them past the PETA demonstrators.

3. Grocery Shopping. All of you who have just finished reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle are ready to send me pointed letters of disagreement [please, do!], however, I would argue that while you may raise your own chicken, pork or beef, and while you may have a garden the size of Delaware, there are some things that you will need to get at the store:

toilet paper and other “feminine” needs [if you go back to pioneer days — well, see note on Lee Redmond. Bonkers. Gross.]

4. Taking Out The Trash/Recycling: Again, unless you desire to live in a cistern of filth like THIS [see right], I don’t see any way around this one. Nasty. [PS: if you haven’t checked out A&E’s Hoarders, set your Tivo for Monday nights at 10 pm].

People who know me will realize that something is strangely amiss that I would be pulled from the warmth of the bed I love to descend to a computer and a rigid wooden chair before dawn.

The culprit? I am seriously hungry. [Hungry, people–not pregnant].

In light of the tragedies in Haiti and the devastating and legitimate hunger of others around the world, I will not say that I am starving.

I am not starving. Thank God–truly.

But I am seriously hungry.

Ten days ago I started a detox to help reposition my view of food and hopefully to change some habits that I was ready to conquer. This particular detox demands that for 28 days I eat sugar-free, dairy-free [eggs OK for part], gluten-free, and beef/pork-free. Additionally, at specific times of the plan [like this week], I am to cut out even lean meats like chicken and turkey, nuts, beans & legumes, and eggs. This is all supplemented with certifiably “yummy” shakes [read: grainy, gritty, and taste like a pile of wet autumn leaves]. That’s why I woke up hungry. Fruits, veggies, and rice, while delicious, aren’t really giving me the satisfaction that a warm and crusty piece of toast would, carefully smothered in jam and served still-warm on my plate.

My love of sugar, in fact my felt need for sugar, was something I did not run away from. I loved to sit with a glass of Coke–or three–or mix up a batch up chocolate chip cookies so I could devour a respectable portion of the dough. And don’t even get me started on the holy grail of chocolate and peanut butter. My goodness. That has the prospect of taking on a life of its own.

I began to acknowledge patterns I had long denied or downplayed. Like how my lack of self-discipline when confronted with certain things meant that food didn’t submit to me and my fork, but that I submitted to it. And the more I’ve been learning about enjoying pleasures and following Jesus, the more I realized that this kind of submission will only be realized when put in right relationship with my heart and faith. Giving free reign to self-indulgence doesn’t seem like the best way to move through life. At least not for me.

As I’ve mentioned before, I had the distinct joy of reading Gary Thomas’ latest book, Pure Pleasure: Why Do Christians Feel So Bad About Feeling Good? [I’ll be reviewing this book and offering the chance to win a free copy on my blog next week!] Gary approaches the subject of pleasure in such new and interesting ways I was unable to put this book down. While he lauds accepting gifts of relationships, food, hobbies, and intimacy with open and grateful hearts, he cautions how blind abandon can, though won’t always, lead to sin. His chapter entitled “Dangerous Pleasures” gave me particular pause as I contemplated this detox:

“I grew up in a conservative Baptist church. Many of the older widows wouldn’t be caught dead saying “heck” or “gosh,” much less their demonic counterparts. They wouldn’t think of watching an R-rated movie or, sin of all sins, participating in a poker game. But they would all but clean out the desserts during potluck. Perhaps bereft of many common pleasures, they gorged without restraint when an “acceptable” pleasure sat before them, in much the same way that a climber atop Mount Everest desperately tries to suck down some air…

“…It would be a monstrosity of a generalization (as well as a lie) to suggest that being holy means being thin. God creates different body types, and it can be just as much a sin of vanity to spend hours crafting a certain physique as it can be a sin of gluttony to exert no control over our food appetites. So without referring to body size, let me gently ask you this: Does your discipline toward food honor God?Is your witness undercut by your failure to control, or even address, this particular issue? [emphasis mine] Ultimately, only God knows. I raise the issue primarily because it would be simplistic to talk about “dangerous” pleasures and ignore the most common, and therefore perhaps the most dangerous, pleasure of all–gluttony.” [pgs. 150-152]

Am I the only one who reads this and says, “Ouch“?

Maybe I wasn’t cleaning out the dessert table at potlucks, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to ignore patterns of indulgence in my life. I want to honor God with a right view of food–one that allows me to enjoy the distinct pleasure of sharing a meal with friends, one that sees the gift in slowly enjoying and savoring my [one] piece of dessert, and one that reminds me that I eat to live–not live to eat.

Credit: CNN.com

So in these pre-dawn hours I think on these things. I remember that the inconvenience of giving up chicken and bread is a daily circumstance beyond the control of billions of truly hungry people around the world. That most people on our planet won’t have fresh fruit and vegetables today. That most people will be grateful for a bowl of rice and nothing more. That most people don’t even have a glass of clean water to drink.

My heart splits open at the images flashing across my TV screen. Children wandering along, crying out for relief. Mothers now merely existing with souls ripped out at the loss of family. Brothers and sisters scrounging for scraps of food, praying for deliverance from their hell on earth. All while I sit comfortably on my sofa, wrapped in a blanket, sipping my tea, lamenting a 4 week loss of bread and jam.

I think of them. I remember that my brief sacrifice is small and ordinary. That it is optional. I remember that my hunger is temporary and laughable. My sleeplessness: a poignant reminder that at dawn and always, my heart sings with gratitude for the gifts and provisions of God.

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:: :: :: :: ::In some ways this blog feels more like my beach house than anything else: it's a place for me to turn my face to the sun, breathe a little more deeply, and write about the faith journey.
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